


Beats and bass

by The_Fic_Bot_TM



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Alcohol, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21790471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Fic_Bot_TM/pseuds/The_Fic_Bot_TM
Summary: Greg takes Nick out to his favorite club and they end up drinking too much.
Relationships: Greg Sanders/Nick Stokes
Comments: 10
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while drunk.

Greg's got all the moves, gyrating his hips in tune to the beats of the bass while Nick is still a little shy. He's had shots and beers and it's more than he usually drinks when he goes out with friends but this is Greg and Greg makes him a kind of nervous he hasn't been since college when he had a crush on the quarterback of his football team. Nick can't help but be drawn into the world that Greg is diving into - music, beats, drinks. Grinding and moving and suddenly there is touching, too.

Greg's hands are on his hips, tentative, unsure. Mapping the area, testing the waters. Fingers dancing to the beat across his lower back, beneath the hem of his shirt. It’s intoxicating. More so than the alcohol. He shouldn't. But he wants to. Has dreamed of this. Wants to so bad. Just lean into the touch. Consume the smell of Greg, sharp and sweet and oh so tempting. He wants to taste. Oh, how he wants to taste those lips that keep smiling, lip syncing the lyrics to whatever song is playing right now.

He tries to think of all the reasons why he shouldn't. This is wrong. This is Greg. His friend. His coworker. Who moves like he was born to be a dancer. Smiles like he returns every feeling Nick has ever felt for him. Could it be? Through the haze of booze and beats Nick cannot help but wonder if what he sees right now is only his imagination or if it's truly there, in Greg's eyes. In Greg's moves. As he reaches a hand for Nick and twirls him around in circles, like a girl. But Nick lets him.

Greg's laughing, he can't hear him over the noise of the club, but he sees every single twitch and move, sees the sparkle in his eyes and the white gleam of his perfect teeth. He feels in love, God does he feel in love. With the moment, with the music, with Greg. Clasping Greg's fingers in his he pulls, guides his dancing body closer to his own until their foreheads touch and their bodies sway in unison, hands on hips, eyes lost in each other, moving to the same rhythm. His fingers find Greg’s cheeks.

It’s now or never, it’s all up to him. He lets his hands slide lower down, into Greg’s messy hair, and licks his lips in anticipation. And then the taste of Greg consumes him. His soft, wet tongue swipes into his mouth. A tingle rushes through him, head to toe. Greg’s hands tighten around his body, pressing them closer while he grips harder at the back of Greg’s head. He wants to crawl into him, become one with him, lick and taste and feel.

He lets the noise drown out his doubts. Draws confidence from the way Greg melts into him. There won't be regrets in the morning. There can't be. This is how they were supposed to be for the longest time. This is how he wants them to be. For now and for all times.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after. Nick wakes hungover and confused.

There is a distinct memory of drum beats echoing through Nick’s mind when he wakes. He feels them thrumming through his entire body, the way the music did last night. He has no recollection of how he got home but that might have to do with the fact that he isn’t home, he realizes with a start as his eyes open to an unfamiliar pillow case. His vision is blurry and he blinks away the haze and rubs his eyes. His head hurts. His mouth is dry. A sudden shiver makes him realize he’s naked. 

With his heart beating all the way up to his throat he turns around, vague memories returning to his hazy conscious. The pillow next to him is occupied and he doesn’t even have to think, he knows before his eyes can send the information up into his brain. Greg. He swallows around the dryness as he feels the soft press of lips against his throat, a sloppy tongue inside his mouth, his memories so vivid and clear as if it was happening again. Next to him Greg appears peacefully asleep.

He touches a hand to his lips and lets the other tentatively slide under the covers. He still has his underwear on. Technically that doesn’t mean anything. But surely he didn’t… They didn’t. He’d remember that. He’ll never forgive himself if he really let himself get so drunk that he’d slept with Greg and then forgot everything about it. He groans in pain as he rolls onto his side. Greg stirs but doesn’t wake, so Nick seizes the opportunity to sneak out of the bedroom and slip into the bathroom.

Washing his face with cold water makes him feel a little more sober than before and he dares to risk a look into the mirror. His eyes are swollen, pupils tiny spots to protect him from the too bright lights, there’s scruff on his cheeks and chin, throwing a light shadow and making him look ragged and worn out and holy hell, there is a dark purple bruise on his neck that he suddenly very clearly remembers being sucked into his skin by Greg.

He wants to bolt, avoid an awkward encounter while he still can. But he’s in no shape to go outside. His only option is to creep back into the bedroom in search for his clothes. The blinds are drawn and the room is poorly lit, making it harder to navigate now that his eyes have adjusted to the daylight that filtered through into the hallway. Just barely he can make out a heap on the floor. Definitely denim, but he can’t be sure if it’s his or Greg’s. 

Bending down to pick it up he knocks over a bottle of water that he hadn’t expected to stand in his way. “Damn,” he mutters on reflex. “Huh?” A groggy voice comes from the bed, making him freeze right where he stands. He holds his breath, doesn’t make a sound. It’s stupid but maybe Greg’s just going to fall back to sleep, he isn’t ready to face him. “Nicky?” So much for that. “Sorry,” he mumbles and puts the bottle back up, “Couldn’t find my pants.”

With a low groan Greg sits up in bed and regards him with eyes that look bleary to him in the semi darkness. “What time’s it?” Greg slurs sleepily and Nick has to admit he has not the slightest idea. Greg squints at his alarm clock and then turns back to Nick, who still hasn’t found his shirt. “Well, come back to bed and find ‘em later,” he suggests and lets himself fall flat onto his back with a soft thud. Nick swallows. How can Greg be so at ease with everything?

A hand tugs at his while he still stands in just his briefs, scanning the dim room for his belongings. And suddenly everything fades but that feeling from last night. Warmth. Want. Giddiness. Looking up he finds Greg smiling at him, one bow raised in challenge. He can’t help but smile and cave in when Greg tugs again. Crawling across the bed lies down next to him. Greg lifts the blanket in invitation and Nick hesitates for a mere second before he shifts closer and scoots up to Greg’s bare body.

“Do you regret coming home with me?” His voice still sounds tired but less slurred. Nick swallows, hoping to buy himself some time to form a reply. “Nick?” Greg prods when the silence drags on. “No. No I don’t.” He tells him honestly. “I just… wish I’d remember.” Greg grins, “Remember what?” Nick huffs and shakes his head. “Anything?” They’re facing each other, so close they breathe the same air. “What’s the last thing you do remember?” Greg asks, quietly, a hint of amusement in his voice.

So far what Nick's brain has reconstructed is a lot of dancing, kissing, more drinking and standing in the cold while waiting for a cab. He tells Greg that much, relishing the way Greg’s expression changes at the word ‘kissing’. “You pretty much fell asleep on me in the backseat,” Greg relays and Nick feels himself blush deeply. “Wasn’t easy hauling you up here but I didn’t think you’d make it home on your own.” Nick buries his face in the crook of Greg’s arm and mumbles, “I’m so sorry.”

He’s surprised to feel Greg’s fingers combing through his hair when he tells him, “I’m not.” As much as he wants to let it stand, his mind circles back to the matter of how their clothes ended up scattered around the floor. He’s too embarrassed to ask but he needs to know. Gentle fingers still brush at his scalp, offering him a sense of security and the courage to wring out the burning question, “So, uh… did we?” He pauses and pulls back to look at Greg who starts laughing right into his face. 

“I don’t think you could have if you wanted to,” he snorts between giggles and Nick is sort of relieved and so very mortified but also very much in awe with the sparkle in Greg’s eyes as he laughs on. “Oh thank God,” he says and joins in on the laughter but falters when Greg suddenly sobers up and acquiesces. The hurt on his face startles Nick and it’s then he realizes how he must have sounded to Greg. He rests a hand against Greg’s cheek and explains, “I wouldn’t have wanted to do this drunk.”

He watches Greg’s expression soften. “I’d want to remember,” he admits quietly and is relieved that it must’ve been the right thing to say because Greg’s smiling again. “I think we can arrange for it to happen sober,” Greg teases and rolls on top of Nick with a predatory grin. “Greg, wait,” Nick interrupts just before their lips touch, “I don’t wanna do this hung over and with morning breath.” Greg chuckles and lets his head drop to Nick’s chest. “Alright, but don’t keep me waiting another three years.”


End file.
